Study in Sherlock
by Dalnim
Summary: Pre-Study in Pink AU. "In all his five years of knowing him, Greg had never seen Sherlock look so – broken." Not as angsty as it sounds. HEA. Sequel posted!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is what happens when you can't sleep at night and an idea won't leave you alone.**

**Summary: Pre-Study in Pink AU. "In all his five years of knowing him, Greg had never seen Sherlock look so – broken." HEA.**

**Warnings: Light Johnlock slash, light angst**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes. Part of the dialogue has been taken straight from BBC Sherlock.**

Greg Lestrade stopped outside the front door of 221B Baker Street looking hesitant. It had been two months since he had last seen Sherlock – which was frankly amazing as normally the world's only consulting detective was bugging him about a new case within hours of solving the previous one. This time though he hadn't heard a peep from the detective and wouldn't even be there if he and the rest of the Scotland Yard weren't so out of their depth with the serial suicides – there was a fourth one already!

The reason, however, why he was hesitating to see Sherlock and ask for his help wasn't because the man was (even if he appreciated his help and considered him close to a friend) a serious pain in his arse, but because he was concerned of what kind of state he would find him in. Greg had seen Sherlock at his worst time as a drug addict and found him twice when he had overdosed, but nothing had prepared him for what he had seen during their last meeting. In all his five years of knowing him, Greg had never seen Sherlock look so – _broken. _And frankly that frightened him.

**Flashback**

It had been a normal day for Greg – a crime scene with a body with Sherlock spouting off his deductions and exchanging insults with Donovan and Anderson in between – when it happened. Two men – military by the way they were dressed – approached the scene with grave faces and Sherlock trailed off mid-sentence, his face paling drastically, if that even was possible. At that moment his eyes showed so much _emotion_ as he approached the two men cautiously, all the time shaking his head and whispering "No, no, no, no".

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" One of the men started. "We regret to inform you…" He tried to continue when Sherlock leaped.

"No!" He cried and took hold of the front of the man's uniform, pushing him into the wall with surprising strength. "You're lying. He's not dead." He spat through his teeth.

Greg sprung to action moving towards the scene in order to help the other military guy to get Sherlock off the man when suddenly a ginger-haired man in a three-piece suit and an umbrella in his hand appeared just in time to catch a collapsing Sherlock, who kept repeating the words "He's not dead" over and over again.

"Tell me he's not dead, Myc." Sherlock looked at the ginger man, looking so vulnerable and broken that Greg knew he'd never forget that sight.

"Come along Sherlock." The umbrella man – Myc? – said quietly as he helped Sherlock up. He nodded to the military men shortly before leading Sherlock to the black sedan and disappearing from the sight.

**End of flashback**

Needless to say Greg had deemed it best to leave Sherlock alone, apart from sending him a text to ask if he was okay – which remained unanswered –, till he contacted Greg, but now he really had no other choice.

Taking a deep breath Greg rang the doorbell and soon there were footsteps to be heard from inside and the door opened to reveal the landlady Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh, Detective Inspector, it's so good you are here!" She exclaimed cheerfully and ushered him inside. "Sherlock's in need of a new interesting case – maybe a nice serial killer or a closed-room mystery (he so loves those!) – It's not decent, I say, but what can you do?" She shook her head. "He's been in a mood for weeks now and refuses to tell me what is wrong. Honestly that boy! Refuses to eat or sleep, even though I have made him food – just this once, I'm not his housekeeper after all – and hardly talks at all nowadays. He just plays that violin of his – oh, so sad songs." She sighed sadly. "If you ask me I think he misses the Doctor." She whispered conspiratorially and winked at Greg.

"Right. I'll just go see him then." Greg said wondering who the hell was 'the Doctor'. He went up the stairs and knocked quietly on the door.

"Sherlock?" He said cautiously as he entered the apartment. Following the sound of the violin playing a mournful song he saw Sherlock curled up in one of the armchairs – which Greg found slightly odd since usually the detective only lied on the sofa or sat on the other armchair, which Greg had come to think of as 'Sherlock's' chair. Come to think of it, Greg didn't remember anyone ever sitting in the other chair Sherlock was now occupying while he played the violin his eyes full of emotion.

"There has been a fourth one and I really need your help." Greg started. "Will you come?" He asked still receiving no answer or no reaction at all. "Please Sherlock." He begged and he really hated begging, especially to Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock stopped playing and closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again and Greg could see that his face was clear of all emotion.

"Text me the address, I will take a cab." He finally said with a rough voice, which indicated that he hadn't been talking for a while, before stalking into his bedroom, no doubt to change his clothes. Greg sighed in relief and pulled out his phone in order to send the address to Sherlock, but couldn't help but feel concerned for the man – the spark in his eyes he usually had when he had an interesting case coming, had completely disappeared.

"The Freak's here." Donovan told him, and Greg turned his head just in time to see Sherlock step out of the cab and for a moment everything was back normal. He was dressed in his purple shirt, long coat and the blue scarf as always and walked long steps entering the crime scene ducking under the yellow tape and approaching Greg and Donovan.

"Hello Freak." Donovan sneered and Greg glared at her before turning to Sherlock.

"Sherlock, thanks for coming." He said and started walking into the house and Sherlock followed him without even a glance at Donovan, who looked slightly put out for being ignored – another sign that everything wasn't okay with Sherlock as he _never_ passed an opportunity insult her.

"Her name's Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards, we're running them now for contact details. Hasn't been here long. Some kids found her." Greg told him as they entered the house but received no comment of Sherlock. As they reached the room with the body Sherlock got to work without a word.

After a while Greg got impatient.

"Got anything?" He asked trying to study Sherlock's face, which usually showed if he had found something, but this time it remained unnervingly blank.

"Victim is in her late thirties. Professional person, going by her clothes; something in the media, going by the shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night judging from the size of her suitcase." Sherlock started speaking, but the usual underline of excitement in his voice was missing, instead it was completely monotonous and his deductions lacked all the usual witty comments.

"Suitcase, yes." Sherlock continued before Greg even had a chance to ask. "She's been married for at least ten years, but not happily. She's had a string of lovers, but none of them knew she was married."

"Her wedding ring, ten years old at least. The rest of her jewellery's been regularly cleaned but not her wedding ring; State of her marriage, right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside; that means it's regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her…finger." He suddenly trailed off and Greg could hear a commotion coming from outside. Turning to look at Sherlock he saw his head turned towards the voice and thought he saw a tiny bit of emotion showing through his eyes – hope.

"I don't bloody care if this is a crime scene or in the middle of a goddamn funeral, I want to see Sherlock Holmes. NOW!" A commanding man's voice could be heard shouting and suddenly Greg was pushed aside as Sherlock dashed out of the room to the yard. Greg quickly followed him and saw Sherlock frozen by the door staring at a short, quite frankly an unassuming-looking man, dressed in a jumper and leaning on a cane, like he was the conductor of his light. And by the look of Sherlock's face, he most likely was.

"What's going on here?" Greg asked Donovan who had been left in charge of keeping the civilians out of the crime scene.

"Sir, this man insisted on seeing the Freak…" Donovan started, but quieted down as the short man shot her so murderous glare that she physically winced and Greg thought that he might have to rethink his first impression about this stranger.

"John." Sherlock said half aloud his voice cracking.

"Sherlock." The stranger said with a soft smile and suddenly Sherlock was moving toward the man and reaching his hand to touch him as if testing if he was truly there.

"John." Sherlock repeated. "You're really here. I – they told me you were dead." He said quietly, disbelief clear in his voice.

"I know, Sherlock." The man – John – said. "I'm sorry. They found my blood and my tags on a bomb scene. Everyone thought I was gone, but I was saved by some locals who brought me to a local hospital. I'm sorry it took me so long to get back." He said touching Sherlock's face.

"You got shot." Sherlock said and Greg could see his eyes taking in the man in front of him – deducing.

"I did." John said with an embarrassed smile. "Left shoulder."

"Shoulder? Not leg?" Sherlock frowned for a second before his face cleared. "Ah, psychosomatic limp. No worries John, we'll get rid of that quickly enough… Shoulder…" Suddenly he stopped and looked at John. "You can't practice anymore."

"Yeah." John grimaced. "Too much destroyed tissue and a tremor."

"I'm sorry, John." Sherlock said and Greg could see he actually meant it. "They discharged you, didn't they?"

John gave a tight smile and nodded. "The Army doesn't need a crippled army doctor who can no longer do his job."

Sherlock nodded understandingly.

"You're alive, John. That's all that matters. We'll figure something out." He said.

"Yeah." John said with a faint smile, his eyes softening. "I missed you." He said quietly holding Sherlock's hand.

"I missed you too." Sherlock said trailing John's face with his hand and suddenly the small gap between them disappeared and Sherlock kissed – actually _kissed_ – the other man.

Greg would never admit it, but he gaped. I mean seriously, Sherlock, 'I'm a high-functioning sociopath', Holmes actually kissed some random man in front of all the Yarders! Although, maybe snogged would be a more suitable term considering how long the kiss actually lasted. But needless to say Greg wasn't the only one who was shocked by this turn of events. In fact every person on the scene was openly gaping at the couple, who still hadn't come up for breath, and especially Donovan and Anderson looked like they couldn't believe what they were seeing.

"Do close your mouths people, you all look like idiots." Sherlock commented as soon as he stopped kissing John. "But then again we all know you are, so by all means, continue. I for one have a murder to solve." He added with a smirk, his eyes shining brightly in happiness and excitement as he walked hand in hand with John back towards the house.

They stopped when they reached the place where Greg was standing and Sherlock finally introduced the stranger to Greg, although what he heard was not something he would have _ever_ expected.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade, this is my husband Doctor and Captain John Hamish Watson-Holmes. John, Lestrade. John will be assisting me on cases from now on." Sherlock announced smugly before dragging John with him to the house.

"Wait a second, you're _married_?!" Greg exclaimed, but was ignored like always.

"Stop it Sherlock, we're on a crime scene. You can't giggle on crime scenes." He could hear John saying although he was clearly trying to hold his laughter.

"What, you started it, John." Sherlock said and Greg could just imagine him grinning.

"Shut up." Was the muttered response followed by a new round of giggles.

Greg shook his head, feeling his headache multiplying. He had no idea if the influence of John Watson-Holmes would be a good thing or not, but for now, as he listened the new round of deductions, the most important thing was that the old Sherlock Holmes was back, and the Game was back on.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review and tell me what you think.**

**There are some possibilities of me writing some related one shots to this if you guys want, eg. John confronting Sally about calling Sherlock a Freak, Mycroft's point of view of this story, How John and Sherlock met or a Mystrade spin-off, to name a few. So let me know what you think in a review or something.**

**Thanks,**

**- Dalnim**


	2. Sequel!

Hello my dear readers! Just a small note to inform you that the first sequel has been posted in my profile under the name: John vs Sally.

Thanks,

- Dalnim


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